


come a little closer

by phanatics



Series: kurodai week 2k17 [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Attempt at Humor, First Meeting, KuroDai Week, KuroDai Week 2017, M/M, daichi-san gets fuckin rekt, emphasis on attempt, i can't think of any other tags for this that aren't weird or too oddly specific
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-06
Updated: 2017-05-06
Packaged: 2018-10-23 15:30:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10722120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phanatics/pseuds/phanatics
Summary: “Shit, bro, I think you killed him.”“Bokuto, I swear to God, that’s not even funny.” Daichi is pulled a little further back into consciousness as cool fingers flutter across his face. “I can’t believe I’m a murderer at 19. That’s too young to go to jail, man.”Daichi wishes that he could pretend to be dead a little longer, so he doesn’t have to face whatever idiots are hovering above him right now, but instead he wrenches one eye open with a weary sigh to accept his fate like a man.In which Kuroo isn't nearly as smooth as he thinks he is and Daichi believes that he really doesn't deserve this.(Day 1:first meeting/ next time)





	come a little closer

**Author's Note:**

> i am....,...,not incredibly happy with this......."fluidity" "comprehensibility" whats that.,,..........,,,nnnnnnghhhah

Daichi really, really,  _really_  doesn’t want to deal with this right now. He’s pretty sure that at this very moment there’s a ubiquitous, nameless deity cackling at his sheer misfortune from somewhere up above, and, quite frankly, he’s not amused.

He just wanted to take a nice walk in the park. It’s unnaturally warm for so late in the year and he has two exams and an essay to study for but the sunlight beckons him and he finds himself wandering towards the small park close to his apartment and just off the college campus, grateful for the distraction from his course content.

The birds are singing; golden clusters of leaves quiver with the slight breeze. Daichi wants to find a bench to sit, take a well-deserved break, and just  _breathe._

Instead he gets two steps through the grass and receives a baseball to the back of the head. Someone shouts, but he’s not too sure who it is, because he feels his legs buckle, and he slips out of consciousness almost immediately. His last thought before everything goes dark is that he really doesn't deserve this.

He’s not sure how much time has passed when he comes to with heavy breathing echoing next to his ear and a panicked exchange happening somewhere above his head. His skull throbs as he dimly registers the conversation going on.

“Shit, bro, I think you killed him.”

“Bokuto, I swear to God, that’s not even funny.” Daichi is pulled a little further back into consciousness as cool fingers flutter across his face. “I can’t believe I’m a murderer at 19. That’s too young to go to jail, man.”

Daichi wishes that he could pretend to be dead a little longer, so he doesn’t have to face whatever idiots are hovering above him right now, but instead he wrenches one eye open with a weary sigh to face his fate like a man.

The conversation falters as whoever it is notices him shifting slightly on the ground. Daichi moves his fingers one by one, slowly; assessing the extent of his injury, silently assuring himself that he’s fine, this is fine.

“Hey, hey! Would you look at that, alive and well. What did I tell ya, Kuroo?”

This is not fine. His mouth feels like it’s full of cotton but Daichi groans through it and blinks hard as he tries to get his bearings again. There’s blurry sunlight filtering through the spaces in the canopy of yellow and orange leaves above him and he dimly registers that he’s stretched out on the ground. There’s grass tickling the back of his neck. He can smell the cool, packed earth, heady and thick, and he’d love to just lie there and become one with nature but one of the guys is still chattering on and it’s making Daichi’s head hurt.

“Please…” he mumbles, squinting against the rays of sun, “…shut up.”

Someone snorts, and the talking stops so rapidly that it’s like someone has taken a remote control and muted whoever couldn’t shut his mouth. Daichi’s eyes are starting to droop again and he wants to succumb to the new wave of darkness ebbing through the spaces in his brain but there’s that same cool touch on his cheek again and a voice telling him to stay awake.

“Hey, man, I know you got hit pretty hard but please, can you get up? I’m really scared I’ve given you brain damage and I don’t want you to die here in my arms.”

Daichi snaps his eyes open just so he can scowl at his assailant. He wishes whoever it is would just leave him alone, because he’s not even fully conscious and he’s getting annoyed.

His vision swims and he blinks hard once, twice, until he can see clearly again and the two dark blurs above his head materialize into two male faces, watching him with matching wide-eyed expressions.

One of them has the most ridiculous appearance Daichi has ever come across. Salt-and-pepper strands of hair are slicked back into two tufts behind his head and bushy eyebrows frame intense golden eyes; he’s wearing a black threadbare tank top with “SUNS OUT, GUNS OUT” emblazoned on it in neon pink typeface. It almost hurts to look at him.

The other is annoyingly handsome. He has a lean face, high cheekbones and a mess of artfully tousled black hair. He’s wearing a red plaid shirt and the collar is unbuttoned just a little too much for it to be considered publically decent. He really does look like he’s just watched Daichi come back from the dead; there’s a distinct paleness under his skin and, judging from the baseball in his hand and the sheepish look on his face, he must be Daichi’s assailant. 

“I’m…really sorry,” the guy with the black hair starts, and he lowers himself down from his crouching position above Daichi’s head to sit properly on the sparse grass, looking genuinely apologetic. “I wasn’t aiming for you. I’m Kuroo. This is Bokuto." He points to the loud one. "Do you need me to take you to the hospital?”

Daichi tentatively pushes himself into a sitting position, wincing slightly as pain blooms from a spot at the back of his head and his vision momentarily flickers. He feels a little woozy, but he pushes it down and focuses on the feeling of the cold earth on the backs of his legs. He feels his cheeks colour in embarrassment under the scrutiny of two sets of eyes.

"I'm okay." He coughs awkwardly. "You don't have to do that for me."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah." Kuroo looks skeptical but backs off anyway. Daichi misses the silent conversation that occurs over his head, an exchange of raised eyebrows and wide eyes. Bokuto makes a crude sexual gesture at Kuroo behind Daichi's back and Kuroo flips him off in return, shaking his head at the scheming look in Bokuto's eyes.

“Well!” Bokuto clambers to his feet, startling Daichi back to the present, and makes a show of checking his non-existent watch and throwing his arms up exaggeratedly. “I have to go…feed my uncle…" He laughs nervously, and with such a lack of conviction that it's baffling "…okayhavefunKuroobye!” He flees before either Daichi or Kuroo can say anything, practically leaving a cloud of dust in his wake.

Daichi is left gaping. He stares blankly into the distance and silently regrets every decision that's brought him to this moment in time. “Sorry, but…what the fuck?”

Kuroo’s head is in his hands and his drawn-out groan is muffled. "I'm sorry. Ignore him. He's dumb. He was probably dropped on his head as a child."

Daichi is silent as he tries to sort out his muddy thoughts. He needs to get back to his apartment, maybe grab an ice pack, and take a long nap. Preferably immediately. He can feel the vibrations of Kuroo’s fingers tapping on the ground, and he wants to snap at him to stop, but he breathes deeply instead, temporarily quelling the annoyance simmering below the surface.

He ponders the weird attitude of Kuroo's friend and a thought strikes him; he turns to Kuroo, frowning. “Did you hit me on purpose?”

“What? No!” Kuroo looks caught off guard before he shakes his head furiously, waving his hands in front of him in vehement defense. “Bokuto would maybe try something like that. But I’m not stupid. I just have shitty aim.”

“Pretty solid throw, though,” Daichi admits, reaching up to prod at the lump already rising beneath his hair. He disguises the hiss of pain through his teeth as a heavy exhale. His fingers come away clean; no blood, and he takes that as a good sign.

“So, uh, what’s your name?”

Daichi startles. “Oh, sorry. I forgot to say. Sawamura Daichi.” Kuroo hums and runs a hand through his hair, ruffling it slightly as he sits up on his haunches. He regards Daichi for a moment, face blank, before he offers him a tentative smile, blooming uncertainly, unsure, like flowers in the wintertime. 

“Do you need help getting up?”

“No,” Daichi starts, a little too quickly. He’s already embarrassed enough about collapsing in front of an attractive stranger and his dignity, along with his head, is a little wounded.

Daichi pushes himself off the ground on traitorous shaky legs and spreads his arms warily, testing his balance. Kuroo rises with him. He takes a tentative step and staggers, and Kuroo’s arm shoots out to snake around his waist, helpfully stopping him from completely tripping over his own feet. He can feel Kuroo dip slightly beneath his weight, the tremble in his biceps as he strains to keep his own balance. Daichi is adamantly _not_ distracted by the swell of his muscles under his shirt.

“Woah, there.”

Daichi grunts in annoyance. “Give me a moment. I’m fine.”

A pause. The ground is swimming before his eyes.

“Have you had your moment yet?”

Daichi twists his face up to scowl at Kuroo; he has to tilt his head back because of how close they are and he feels personally insulted by the four inches of height that Kuroo has on him. “Has anyone ever told you you’re annoying?”

“Yes, many times.” Kuroo brushes the comment off like it’s nothing and practically beams, and Daichi wants to damn him and his straight teeth and the shallow dimple on the left side of his mouth for ruining his perfectly good day. “It’s one of my finer qualities.”

Daichi purses his lips and glares at the ground in lieu of a snappish response. He only looks up when the hand at his waist squeezes to catch his attention.

“Let me walk you home.”

Daichi suppresses a sigh. “I think you’ve done enough.”

“Sawamura-san, please. You and I both know that you’re currently in no state to walk yourself home.”

Daichi pretends to think about it before he begrudgingly accepts, only because he’s still being buffeted by sporadic waves of dizziness and he does feel like making it back to his apartment in one piece.

(There’s a tiny, traitorous part of his brain that wants to relish the feel of a lithe, muscular torso pressed up against his for a little while longer, but he’ll never readily admit that, even to himself.)

Daichi tells him his address, only ten minutes away, and dryly asks if Kuroo can support him for that long; the taller’s arms are quivering, and Daichi knows that he’s heavy. Kuroo rolls his eyes and tugs him along like a limp marionette in retaliation, only hesitating to ask for directions through the grid-like streets, before ploughing forward again determinedly.

When they reach his apartment building, he helps Daichi up four flights of stairs because the creaky old elevator is out of order again, and even though Daichi is pretty certain that he can walk independently at this point, has been able to since they left the park, he doesn’t let on. He only relinquishes when they reach his door and he has to fish his keys from his pocket. He dares a peek at Kuroo and the other is looking around the hallway in mild curiosity before he catches Daichi’s eye.

“Well-” he gives a mock bow as Daichi raises an eyebrow. “It was a pleasure to meet you. And I’m sorry I knocked you out with a baseball,” he tacks on as an afterthought.

The lock clicks and Daichi swings open the door. He glances over his shoulder. “Don’t sweat it. It was an accident.”

Kuroo seems to be hesitating. He opens his mouth slightly before closing it again and his eyes nervously dart away before returning to Daichi’s face; his mouth opens for a second time.

“I want to make it up to you.” He starts haltingly, but his words speed up, as if he’s trying to get them out there before he changes his mind. “Do you, maybe, want to go for coffee sometime?”

Daichi nearly drops his keys. He hopes that his astonishment isn’t visible on his face, and instead schools his features into a flat stare as he steps through his door. He doesn’t invite Kuroo in. “You’re joking.”

Kuroo’s eyes are wide, earnest. He’s casually leaning up against the doorframe like he belongs there but Daichi doesn’t miss the way he’s nervously tapping his fingers against the top of his thigh. “Well, it doesn’t have to be coffee. Tea works, too.”

“You’re ridiculous,” Daichi grumbles, but he doesn’t say no. He hides the fond smile curling across his face in the collar of his jacket.

He collapses into bed that night with a new number saved under the contact name “my hero ❤” (not his idea, but he’s too soft to change it) and a slew of messages ranging from legitimate concern for his health to a collection of truly awful pick-up lines.

(On their first date, two weeks later, Kuroo’s shaking leg knocks into the table so forcefully that both of their drinks spill on Daichi’s new jeans, and when they go to leave the coffee shop, he loses control of the door and it swings back into Daichi’s face hard enough to make his nose bleed. He spends the rest of the date with red-stained tissues shoved in his nostrils and a damp patch over his crotch, but when Kuroo drops him back home and sheepishly says that he understands if he never wants to see him again, Daichi can’t seem to let him go so easily.

Their second date goes a lot more smoothly.)

**Author's Note:**

> daichi please you probably have a concussion go see a doctor
> 
> (also can we appreciate my pathetic attempt to get bokuto out of the picture because i used him for like one line and needed to make him leave ahsfgn sorry bokuto i do like you u just weren't necessary)


End file.
